Prisoner: On the Road We Go
by dawnindanite
Summary: A continuation of the Prisoner Series. Game of Thrones Season 3 episodic accounts told from Gendry's point of view. Again, based purely on show material.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So I'm back playing in the Game of Throne universe. I'd like to thank all of you who had read part 1 of the _Prisoner_ Series. Your support has greatly inspired me to continue writing here. Also, it's ridiculously fun writing the episodes from Gendry's point of view.

Just to clarify, there will be some things that will not correspond directly with _Prisoner: I'd Follow Her Anywhere_ because I had filled in some information (obviously) before this season, so there may be some backtracking. i.e. Their conversation about where they're headed. Also, I had Gendry initially only steal daggers from Harrenhal, which is why...well, you'll see when you get there. :)

Happy reading!

Disclaimer: I have no legal affiliation with _Game of Thrones_ nor _A Song of Ice and Fire_.

* * *

We've been trudging in the woods for a few days now, trying to stay off the map. Trying to head north after the shit that's happened at Harrenhal. Harrenhal. Arya's finally told us how she managed to get Jaqen H'ghar to help her escape. Turns out, she didn't fuck him. Good. She just saved his life and in turn he owed her three deaths.

Stupid girl. I remember the day that we found the Tickler dead on the ground with his head spun all the way around. That was one. Good fucking riddance. But still. That was one death she wasted. Apparently one other was on some soldier who almost blew her secret. Either way, still another waste of a death. The last grant from Jaqen was to free us. Alright, that was a good idea.

But, because this trek is long and there's nothing to talk about, I like to bring up her stupidity every now and then. It's nice to know that even high-born ladies carry this trait like the rest of us gutter rats.

"I'm just trying to understand."

"Would you please, shut up about it?" Her voice is laced with embarrassment and also, dreariness because I still haven't let it go.

I ignore her and continue. "Jaqen H'ghar offered you three kills." I can't help but think that he would have offered her more if she fucked him. Wouldn't put it past that fucker. I saw the way that he looked at Arya. He left out three swords for us down the road from where he and Ayra parted. Ass. Probably his way of getting her to owe him for something down the road. Good steel too. Probably stole it from Harrenhal.

"I'm not listening." She clearly is. She has no choice.

"But, just explain it to me. He offered to kill you any three people you wanted." Might as well act like it's a confusion to me. I'll toss in a few gestures to make it more authentic. "Dead. All you have to do was give him the names. Anyone." I throw over my shoulder as we continue to move. "You could have picked King Joffrey."

"Shut up." She's so embarrassed now.

"Could've picked Tywin Lannister," I continue without missing a beat.

"Jaqen got us out of Harrenhal, so _why_ are you complaining?" She knows what I'm trying to do, but she won't bite. Instead she's going to point out the only decent decision she made with the three grants.

I'll just have to point out the most obvious fact. "But, you could have ended the war."

She stops. "Where are we going?" She asks, exasperated. I hide my smirk. She knows she's just lost the argument. One point for the gutter rats.

I turn to look at her. I thought it was agreed. "North."

"If we were going North, we should have come to the Red Fork River by now." I don't think Arya knows how to lose gracefully. If she can't win a fight, she'll pick another one until she does.

"Well, maybe we already passed it," Hot Pie offers, slightly breathless.

And there goes the gutter rats' edge. Arya looks at him. "It's a _hundred_ feet wide. _How_ could we have passed it?" Hot Pie and me turn our faces. Arya continues speaking. "If we hit the Red Fork, we could follow it west to Riverrun. My mother grew up there. My grandfather's a lord, he'll protect us." Of course her whole family is fucking high-born.

We hear something coming from a distance. What the fuck is that? Singing?

"Could be a minstrel," Hot Pie whispers as we get behind the tree.

"Shut up," Arya's favourite words slip quietly through her lips.

"Minstrel's got gold, sometimes. We could jump him, tie him up, steal his gold and buy some⎯"

"Shhhh!" Arya hushes him.

Soliders. Lots of them it sounds like.

An arrow comes out of nowhere, nearly taking Arya's life. We all turn around, hitting the tree hard. Not the manliest thing I've ever done. Fuck. The surprise got me was all.

"What's lurking behind that wall?" The singing has stopped.

"A Lion? A Wolf? Just a dirty little covert thing?"

"Loose a few more shots." Shit. Shit. We're going to die.

"Don't." Fuck, Arya. She gets out and faces the men with her sword held hesitantly. Meanwhile, I'm still standing behind the tree with Hot Pie. I can't fucking move my feet. That should be

me in her position.

"Put the sword down, girl."

"You go on down the road. Just keep on singing so we know where you are." Arya. Tough little shit. I need to fucking move. "Leave us be, and I won't kill you," Arya sneers. Oh fuck. How can she not realize that she can't threaten a group of men. She's a child. A girl child. They would rape and kill her in a blink of an eye.

Just as I suspect. laughter and chuckling fills the forest air.

"Generous. You're a dangerous person. I catch a finger pointing at her. "I like dangerous people. Why are your friends so shy?" Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I have no idea how they know, but they know. And my fucking feet still can't move. Hot Pie looks at me, too bewildered at their knowledge.

I can feel Arya's eyes before she looks back at them. "What friends?" She's afraid. Afraid for us. I've never heard her sound more like a little girl.

"The fat one to your left, and the lad beside him," a deeper voice rings out. How the fuck can they see past the tree? Witchcraft. It has to be witchcraft.

Doesn't matter now, our cover's blown. And finally, my feet can move. Guess it doesn't mean much after a girl child had to defend my honour. I step out from behind the tree, grabbing Hot Pie. We have to protect Arya. Hot Pie takes one side, and I take the other. Time to use this fucking sword. I know how to fucking make one, but wielding it is a completely different story. I swing it around anyway, for good measure. Don't know what good it'll do, but it's worth a shot.

The leader suddenly jumps down and we begin to shuffle, not allowing him near us, but not taking our eyes off him. Two other men follow him.

"Three young ones on the run. Carrying castle-forged swords. You escaped from Harrenhal?" The man asks in slight awe. He doesn't have to know the details, let him be wary of us.

"Who are you?" Arya asks, defiant as ever.

"Thoros of Myr. And the fella here with the bow is Anguy." He gestures to the man who almost killed Arya.

"No. Who do you fight for?" Arya continues questioning.

"The Brotherhood without Banners." Fuck. It's them. The ones that the Tickler was looking for. "Now, come along." Thoros moves towards us. "I wanna hear how two boys and a very dangerous girl escaped Harrenhal." He looks at us in amusement. We have no fucking chance. We're going to die.

"I'm not going with them." Hot Pie lets out. "The Brotherhood? That's who the Mountain and all of 'em were looking for." Even stupid Hot Pie remembers who they are. Then again, I was almost clawed out by a rat because of them. It's hard to forget something like that. "They'll bring us back and put rats in us." Seems like Hot Pie remembers that part too.

"You've got nothing to fear from us, son. The Lords of Westeros want to burn the countryside. We're trying to save it. Now, come on. We'll talk more about it over brown bread and stew." He probably thinks that he can get to us with our stomachs. Hot Pie, maybe, but I doubt Arya will give in. She'd rather eat worms. Ah, cue glance from Hot Pie. I knew it.

"And then you can go on your way." Thoros ends.

Hot Pie shuffles his feet. He's tempted but he isn't lowering his sword. Thank gods, he still has some sense of loyalty to us.

"Here's the thing, fat boy," the man named Anguy shoots an arrow into the sky causing the three of us to look up. "When I'm done talking, that arrow is falling down on your fat head. So I'd advise you to move, because I'm done talking." Hot Pie shifts out of the way just as the arrow hits the ground exactly where he was standing.

We all look back at them. Who the fuck were these people? Thoros moves. It's done. They'll kill us if we don't go with them. Arya knows it too. It's why she's leading again.

* * *

"I never liked the skinny ones. Like drinking from a puddle. Not that I'm adverse to drinking from a puddle every now and then," Thoros says drunkenly.

They've done what the said they would and brought us to an inn to feed us bread and stew. Might as well eat a full meal before they kill us.

"I don't drink ale," Arya replies.

"There's no story so good, a drink won't make it better." Thoros holds up his mug. The other men sitting in front of me cheer his words, muffling his next statement.

"Now," he says more loudly so I can hear, "how do three children⎯"

"We're not children," Arya interrupts him.

"How do three young persons, such as yourselves," Thoros starts again, "untrained in the art of war, escape from Harrenhal."

I look at Arya. She's faster at words than I am. Might as well let her explain. Arya glances at me.

"Gendry's a smith," she answers like it explains everything. Fuck. What is she doing? "He was apprentice in the armoury."

"A smith, eh?" Thoros looks at me. I nod with my mouth full. "Where'd you train?" Fuck. Fuck. What the hell do I say? I look at Arya who's looking at me. Hot Pie just keeps eating.

"King's Landing." First fucking thing that pops in my head pops out of my mouth. "Tobho Mott's shop." What will telling the truth hurt? Arya looks bewildered. Shit. Shit. The Gold Cloaks. They wanted my head. Who knows what these guys will do if they find out that I'm wanted.

"That criminal. He charges twice as much as any other armoury in the city."

"That's because he's twice as good." Tobho pretty much raised me. This man has no fucking right insult him.

"Ha! A smith and a salesman."

Arya gets back to the topic at hand. "Gendry stole us weapons."

"Ah. Fought you out of Harrenhal, I see," Thoros mocks. Arya stops eating, her eyes flashing.

"He knows how to use a sword." Fuck if I do. "And so do I."

The men burst out laughing.

"My brothers taught me," Arya continues, causing them to laugh even more. She stands up, indignant. She draws her sword and points it at Thoros.

Thoros nudges it gently with his ale, and then quickly knocks the steel out of Arya's hand with his own. She backs up quickly. He brandishes it a few times before turning and grabbing another mug of ale. He raises it.

"To your brothers."

Arya steps back in and quietly grabs her sword from the floor. She returns to her seat, keeping her eyes on Thoros.

"You can finish your meals before you go," Thoros states. He believed Arya's story. Or maybe he thinks that we wouldn't last two more days on the road anyway. It's probably the latter. I mean, all we are, is a girl, a fat ass, and a coward. I still can't believe that I let Arya stand up for us.

"It may be a while before you see another." Or not at all.

"You'll free us?" Arya asks, unsure.

"I give you my word," he answers, still with that bloody mug in his hand.

Thank the fucking gods. We get up from the bench.

"But, before you go, allow me to raise a cup to s..." he starts chuckling as Anguy steps into the inn.

They have a hooded figure with them. A giant of a man.

"That," Thoros wobbles towards them, "is an uncommonly large person. How does one manage to seduce such an uncommonly large person?"

"One way, through drink, until he passes out." Anguy replies.

"Poor man. You have my sympathies." He unmasks the giant. I see Arya turn around quickly.

I look at him. It's the Hound. One of Arya's fucking names.

"Aha. Not a man at all. A hound," Thoros bellows towards the end.

Thoros says something to him that I can't catch. Wish he learned how to speak louder when he's drunk. The Hound on the other hand, has a voice that booms across the inn.

"Thoros? The fuck you doing here?

"Drinking and talking too much. Same as ever." Arya pushes Hot Pie towards the door. We need to get out of here before they notice. I follow quickly. Her hand gently nudges me as I pass. "A pretty prize, lads."

The others cheer in agreement.

We walk slowly out. Almost make it before the Hound calls to Arya. "Girl." He turns to Thoros. "What in seven hells are you doing with a Stark bitch?" Fuck. He knows it's her. He fucking knows it's Arya.

Thoros quickly signals to Anguy and the others to push us back to our seats.

They hood the Hound again and push him further into the inn. Thoros leans over the table thinking about what he has just learned.

"Why didn't you tell us who you were?" Thoros asks, peering at Arya much more soberly.

"It wasn't important," Arya defends immediately.

Thoros looks over at Anguy. "I'm afraid, Lady Stark, you're going to have to stay here a little longer than expected."

"You said we could leave."

"Aye. I did. But that was before I knew you were Ned Stark's daughter. And that makes a difference between three young persons, and a Northern princess with two young persons. Now, Anguy here is going to show you to your rooms. Make yourselves comfortable for the night."

Arya looks at me, and I do nothing but look at her. If we stay, they could kill us. If we leave, they will kill us. Fuck. Seems we just can't catch a break. Always a prisoner, one way or another.

* * *

A/N: Well, I hope you all liked it. Just to note, most poor grammar in Gendry's thoughts are intentional. Others are just mistakes that I probably haven't caught in my editing.

So, from my earlier note, I know that Gendry was the one who was supposed to steal the swords from Harrenhal, but because I had previously written that it was daggers, I figured I should try to keep some consistency to avoid as much confusion. Also, I thought that I could potentially get away with it because they never actually said how they got the swords in the show.

Please leave a comment and tell me what you think! I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Thanks for reading,

Dawnindanite


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to all who have read, faved, or followed this story! Means a lot to me.

Disclaimer: Characters and plot are not mine.

* * *

There's nothing more satisfying for a blacksmith, even an apprentice at that, to be asked to fix someone's armour. I'll admit, I jumped at the chance when Thoros asked me to mend his breastplate. It's not about befriending our 'captors,' as much as Arya would believe. It's about the art, the mastery of precision when the hammer hits steel.

Fuck, this isn't craftsmanship at all. It's a total piece of shit. "If I had a proper forge, I could make it good as new." Might as well let Thoros know that this isn't my finest work. I look at him as I strap him into his armour. What if he spreads word to the other men that I'm no blacksmith, just a fucking kid who thinks he's one. I have to save my own ass around here. I'd rather not be shot with Anguy's arrow.

"Doesn't have to look pretty. Just has to keep the arrows out of my heart," the man remarks. Good. As long as he's satisfied, I'll live another day.

"Why are you helping him?" Fuck. Arya has been nothing but a cat following my tail ever since she found out that I was fixing Thoros' armour for him. I don't know if it's because she has nothing better to do, or that she likes watching me work. She's done it before at Harrenhal. But this time, she just won't let go of the idea that I'm working for the enemy. Arya doesn't fucking understand that unlike her, me and Hot Pie could be good and dead much sooner than we'd like. We aren't the ones with royal blood running through our veins.

"He takes us prisoner, and now he's our friend," Arya points out, yet again. Though to be fair, I think she's directing the question at Thoros and not at me.

"You're not our prisoner, little lady," the man replies. I glance at Arya. If I know anything, she hates being called a lady.

Instead of calling him out on it, or even shoving him to the ground. She gives him a pointed look. One, I feel, only Arya could pull off; looking every bit of a lady trying not to act like a lady. "What am I?"

"Our guest," Thoros replies instantly. I tug tighter onto the straps. What a fucking load of shit. We are completely at their mercy. "Wouldn't put any chains on ya." He mumbles just loud enough for us to hear. I bet my forging arm that if Arya wasn't a bloody Stark of Winterfell, we'd be in the exact position as The Hound, wherever the fuck he is.

"So, I can walk away, then?" Arya retorts. That girl will never let anyone else have the last word.

"These woods aren't safe for Ned Stark's daughter. You're lucky we found you." Fuck Thoros. Who the hell was he to bring up her dead father? Letting go of the straps, I catch Arya storming away from us.

Seemingly unaware of what just happened, Thoros runs his hands down his chest. "Should be good enough. If I get pierced with an arrow, it'll be your head, ya?" He pats me on the shoulder as if he hadn't just threatened my life. Fucker. "We might just have use for you, yet." He jaunts off whistling some song that I can't remember the name of. Something about a bear eating honey, or some shit like that.

I shake my head and pick up the tool lying on the makeshift bench. Not a very good hammer to work with, but it's better than walking around with a sword I have no fucking idea how to use. Lifting a pitcher of water with my free hand, I quickly douse the open flames. There's no need to for one of these idiots to set the inn on fire.

As much as Arya hates being kept by the Brotherhood, at least they were decent enough to give us our own rolls. I guess they can't imagine a princess of the North sleeping in the dirt. Can't fucking blame them, they weren't at fucking Harrenhal to see her sleeping with her head swimming in the mud.

I watch as Arya moves with the band that has The Hound surrounded. I can see her mouth move, but it's too far to actually see what she says. Or care.

Once I get closer, bending down, I hear Anguy insulting The Hound and ungracious bump following it. Without even looking up, I know that Arya is watching The Hound's every move. I heard the names she whispered before she slept. He's fucking one of them. Arya wants him dead. Arya wants him to pay. For what, I have no idea, but she'll find a way. She always does.

I fumble with my sack just as the wagon leaves. Fuck, leaving already. I see Arya turn out of the corner of my eye.

"What are you doing? We're about to leave." Arya says.

I look at her feet, they're directed behind me. So it's not me, she's talking to.

"I'm staying." What? I can't have heard right. Did Hot Pie fucking say that he was staying?

"You're what?" I stand up and look at him. He's holding tightly onto a lumpy loaf of bread.

Hot Pie sucks in a breath before he looks at me. "I baked some brown bread for the innkeep, and she said she never had better. Told Thoros she's keeping me as payment for all the free meals she's given." I can't even look at him. He's leaving us. As much as I find him irksome when he goes on about pies, it's been us three ever since Yoren died. Did he even think of us before agreeing to this?

"Anyway, it's not me the Brotherhood wants," Hot Pie continues quickly, as if we'd try to stop him if he took a breath. "My brother ain't no king." He's looking at Arya, who eyes him up and down. "I'm not Stark of Winterhell."

"Winterfell," Arya corrects him immediately.

Hot Pie furrows his brows and seriously asks her, "You sure?" Idiot. As if she has no idea where the hell she comes from.

Arya holds back a smile. "I'm sure."

It's not the right time to laugh, but fuck if the things that come of Hot Pie's mouth aren't amusing. I have to look at the ground or else nothing but laughter would come out.

"Well, I made you something." Hot Pie hands over the loaf of bread to Arya.

Arya takes it, and studies it with wariness. She looks at him. "What is it?" She's amused by it's odd shape. I can't even tell what it is.

"It's a wolf," Hot Pie replies like it's the most obvious answer.

A wolf? Arya looks at me which causes Hot Pie to do the same. His eyes are looking at me expectantly.

It hits me. This could be the last fucking time we see him. I nod slightly, looking down at the bread. "Yes, it is." I could give him this one, just this once.

Just like always, Arya's in my head. She too looks down at it. Her finger bouncing on one end of the bread. "That's the tail."

"Yeah."

Arya gives him a tight smile, she knows just as well as I do that we have to leave. This is it.

"Well," I smile at Hot Pie, "be safe."

"Yeah, you too. Don't get stabbed." I know he's trying hard not to be sentimental, and for the life of me, I have no idea what to say.

"You don't...burn your fingers," I offer stupidly in return. I guess it's best that he stays here if that's the worst that I could imagine happening to him.

If I stay any longer, I'll probably say something even stupider. Reaching out, I pat Hot Pie on the shoulder awkwardly. Stupid. Men don't hug. I turn around quickly to bend down and pick up our sacks, giving me something to do. It also gives Hot Pie and Arya time to say goodbye. Odd as it seems, them two have a friendship that is pretty much deeper than others I've seen at King's Landing. It's definitely stronger than anything I've ever had. Except, of course, with Arya. Arya was different.

I carry the sacks to the nearest wagon.

I turn around to see where Ayra is at. On the horse with Thoros. Princesses aren't able to walk either, apparently. She's still holding onto that damn bread.

I spot Hot Pie, head hanging low as he goes back to the inn. I never had any friends to miss in departure. But, I'll miss him. And his stupidity.

"Hey, Hot Pie," Arya calls out, mouth full of something. She looks down into her hands. The bread. "It's really good."

I give one last look at Hot Pie, and I know Arya's said the perfect thing. She managed to leave that fat boy who threatened her when we met at King's Landing with a smile on his face.

Yeah, this is goodbye. But he lives and that's good enough for me.

* * *

A/N: Honestly, this was one of the most heart-breaking moments for me. Who would have thought. Still loved all the bits of humour though. The episode was brilliantly written.

Please leave your thoughts in a review!

Love,

D


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks again for all your lovely support!

Happy Reading!

Disclaimer: The characters and stories of Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice and Fire do not belong to me.

* * *

Sacks. They bloody put our head in bloody sacks. At least they gave me a horse. I honestly have no idea as to how long they had us riding, but it seems an eternity since we've left Hot Pie at the inn.

I hear Arya's voice up front. If I'm fucking losing my mind from not knowing anything, I can only imagine that she is near death. That girl never had a penchant for patience.

"Could I take this hood off, yet?"

Thoros answers her, having the air of giving a fuck. "I do apologize, little lady, but it's better for you if you don't see where we're going."

Someone yells, "Halt," from far ahead, stopping the trot immediately.

I hear Arya ask a question. "What is it?"

"Black strap rum," Thoros replies. I roll my eyes under the hood. Of course they would offer liquor to the highborn. Forget about the fucking smith, why don't they. I've never had it. Definitely a man's drink.

Arya gives a grunt of disgust.

"Not easy finding molasses and water," Thoros says. I assume he's pulled it away from her. If I don't say anything now, I doubt I'll ever get a chance to try it. "I'd have some."

My hood is pulled so that my mouth is exposed. "Have you ever had rum, lad?" Anguy asks.

"Couldn't afford it," I answer honestly.

He chuckles. "You're in for a treat, then."

The thick odor riches my nose before Anguy tips the pouch so that I may drink. The rum burns as it slides down my throat. I choke. I can hear the other men laughing. Anguy slaps me on the back.

"It's alright, boy. Like that for everyone, first time around. Just like being with a woman, the first time's always rough. Nothing but sweetness here on out. Am I right?" He yells to the jeering of the men.

The horse under me starts to move. Anguy's horse trotting next to mine. "Gendry is it?"

I nod under the hood. "Yeah, it is."

"You stick with us, boy, and you won't be maiden to any liquor for long," he says quietly before he leaves to move with Thoros.

Stick with them? He can't have meant join the Brotherhood. The voice in the back of my head starts to wake up. It's not the worst plan. But something stops me from thinking about it any further. Arya.

* * *

They finally pull us off the horses and lead us to wherever their camp is. A waterfall crashes against rocks nearby and the light passing through the holes of the hood disappears. A cave. Their lair is in a cave.

They walk us in a distance before yanking off my hood. I squint as the bright light of fire hits my eyes. I look around. "What is this place?"

"Somewhere neither wolves nor lions come prowling." Thoros answers before walking around the fire to stand before the unhooded Hound.

"You look like a bunch of swine herds."

"Some of us were swine herds. And some was tanners. And masons. That was before." Anguy replies.

"You're still swine herds. And tanners. And masons. You think carrying a crooked spear makes you a soldier?" The Hound sneers.

"No," a voice breaks out from behind a bevy of men. "Fighting in a war makes you a soldier." The crowd splits so that a one-eyed man can come through.

"Beric Dondarrion?" The Hound recognizes him. "You've seen better days."

"And I won't see them again," the man answers as he approaches The Hound.

The Hound shakes his head slightly. "Stark deserters. Baratheon deserters. You're all aren't fighting in a war, you're running from it."

"Last I heard, you were King Joffrey's guard dog. But here you are, a thousand miles from home. Which of us is running?"

"Untie these ropes, and we'll find out," The Hound growls. "What are you doing? Leading a mob of peasants." His voice carries his disbelief.

"Ned Stark ordered me to kill your brother in King Robert's name."

Shit. Arya's father. We look at each other. This was an order when Lord Stark was still Hand of the King, right before he was named traitor. Right before he died.

"Ned Stark is dead. King Robert is dead. My brother's alive," The Hound says with disdain before spitting at his feet. "You're fighting for ghosts."

Beric Dondarrion is quick to answer. "That's what we are. Ghosts. Waiting for you in the dark. You can't see us, but we see you. No matter whose cloak you wear, Lannister, Stark, Baratheon...you pray on the weak, The Brotherhood without Banners will hunt you down."

"You found God, is that it?" The Hound asks.

"Aye. I've been reborn in the light of the one true god." The one-eyed man announces proudly.

The Lord of Light. I've only heard of this god in passing while in King's Landing. Most believe in the Seven, but they've never done anything for me. Neither have the old ones. I step around Arya to hear him speak better. Mayhap this is a god that will work for me. I could use better luck.

"As have we all," he continues. "As with any man who's seen the things we've seen."

"If you mean to murder me, then bloody well get on with it," The Hound says, clearly tired of speaking about the gods.

"You'll die soon enough, dog," Thoros replies. "But it won't be murder. Only justice."

The roiling feeling in my stomach from the past few days settles. These were good men. They only want to set things right, without giving a fucking damn about houses or lords. They represent the people. The gutter rats, bastard or not.

"And a kinder fate than you deserve. Lions, you call yerselves. At the Mummer's Ford, girls, at seven years, were raped. And babes, still on the breast, were cut in two while their mothers watched."

"I wasn't at the Mummer's Ford," The Hound denies. "Dump your dead children at some other door."

"House Clegane was built upon dead children," Thoros hisses. "I saw them lay Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys before the Iron Throne."

"Do you take me for my brother? Is being born Clegane a crime?" He turns around to announce to everyone.

"Murder is a crime!" Someone answers.

"I never touched the Targaryn babes. I never saw them. Never smelled them. Never heard them bawling. You want to cut my throat...get on with it!" The Hound screams towards the end. "But don't call me murderer, and pretend that you're not."

"You murdered Mycah," Arya speaks up, getting everyone's attention. "The butcher's boy. My friend. He was twelve years old. He was unarmed. And you rode him down. You slung him over your horse like he was some deer." She's been holding this in. Probably waited for this moment to confront The Hound.

I see Beric Dondarrion move towards us as she speaks, but turns his attention when The Hound responds.

"Aye, he was a bleeder."

"You don't deny killing this boy?" Beric asks him.

"I was Joffrey's Sworn Shield. The boy attacked the prince."

"That's a lie!" Arya shouts. "I hit Joffrey. Mycah just ran away."

"Then I should have killed you," The Hound answers calmly. So fucking calmly. As if Arya's life was worth nothing. She is worth more than everyone in this fucking cave. I clench my fist. "Not my place to question princes."

I shift my eyes over to Arya. I can feel her tremble with hatred for the man standing before her.

Beric studies her for a second before turning around again. "You stand accused of murder. But no one here knows the truth of the charge, so it is not for us to judge you. Only the Lord of Light may do that now."

Is this Lord of Light really all that they seem to believe? How can this god lay justice? For as many years as I've been alive, I've never seen justice.

"I sentence you to Trial by Combat," Beric says.

The Hound waits a moment. "So, who will it be?"

I look at Arya. Her fury is written across her face. Trial by Combat. The Hound is a warrior. There is very little chance that he will lose.

The Hound taunts Thoros. "Shall we find out if the fire god really loves you, priest? Or you, archer? Or are you worse with a sword in your hand? Or is the little girl the bravest one here?" He snidely comments about Arya.

Beric again looks at her. "Aye. She might be. But it's me you'll fight."

The men start to shove us against the wall so that there would be room for The Hound and Beric to fight. Arya sits on a rock, staring only at The Hound. Her eyes are murderous. It's the look she gets when she cites the names. The Hound is one. I look at the giant looming in the fires. The Hound could die, and that would be one name crossed off her list.

* * *

A/N: I do believe that Arya has told Gendry about her list of names in the showverse. But, I don't think she'd have explained the significance. Arya's just full of secrets.

Also, I wanted to give off the idea that Gendry is interested in the Lord of Light because I want to portray him as feeling completely abandoned, not just by the people in his life (as shown in the next episode), but by religion as well. He's just always down in the dumps and I think the BwB and their god gives him a sense of a possibility of a new beginning.

As always, please tell me what you think, love hearing your responses.

Love,

D


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: My heart ached watching this episode. I know it's inevitable, but I just want Arya and Gendry to be together forever.

Thanks for all those that are still supporting this story.

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

* * *

One of the men unties the ropes around my hands. "Better chance you can run in case they come over here. Don't want you dyin' quite yet, eh boy?" He winks at me before leaving.

I look into the fire. Justice. They only look for justice. I look at The Hound. They seek justice now.

"Lord, cast your light upon us," Thoros speaks into the flames.

The others chant after him. "Lord of Light defend us."

One of the men cuts The Hound from his binds.

"Show us the truth. Strike this man down if he is guilty, give strength to his sword if he is true. Lord of Light, give us wisdom." The absolute belief that Thoros has in this god is fascinating. Not only he, but all of them seem to truly believe that they will reach justice.

I can feel Arya look up at me from the rock she's sitting on. I know her faith in the old and new gods have her disbelieving in the fire god. She thinks that I agree with her. No. I don't believe in any god. They've never believed in me.

"For the night is dark, and full of terrors," Thoros whispers before everyone else repeats after him.

They are all truly devoted to this god.

We watch in silence as Thoros hands a sword over to Beric. Beric slices his hand so that a deep gash is formed. He seemingly tries to do it again, but instead the sword bursts into flames. The smith in me cringes. I've heard of this magic. Mott hated how often his own work was brought back because people have set their steel on fire. The fire weakens the sword.

I see out of the corner of my eye The Hound flinching. Fire. He's afraid of fire.

The two begin to fight. After a moment Arya stands. She wants to see the outcome so badly, she refuses to move to get out of harm's way. I don't even think she's thinking about it. She moves and crouches behind a rock, never tearing her eyes away.

They continue fighting, even as The Hound almost lands on Arya. Luckily, Thoros pulls her away in time. "Get back!" He shoves her towards me.

I grab onto her to help her steady as she's still only paying attention to the fight.

The Hound's shield is aflame and chanting starts around the cave. "Guilty! Guilty!"

Beric stands staring at The Hound too long for Arya's liking. "Kill him!" She shouts.

It's as if the chanting stirs The Hound because with one great swing, he cuts through Beric's sword and into his chest. He's dead. Beric is dead. I don't know how I didn't see it sooner. Fire always weakens the sword.

Silence befalls the cave. Thoros quickly jumps over to Beric's body and begins mumbling something that the flames muffle.

The Hound, meanwhile, falls to the ground to stopper the flames that have started on his arm when Beric managed to slash him and his wooden shield.

Arya turns. She's going to kill him. She's going to kill him. "Arya! Don't!" She grabs a dagger from a man's side.

I have to stop her. I don't even realize that my feet have already moved as she's grabbing the dagger. I run around Thoros and the flames as she hops over the rocks. She collides into me and I hold her back.

She screams at me. "No! Let go of me! Let me go!" Arya struggles in my arms.

"Looks like the god likes me more than your butcher's boy," The Hound taunts.

"Burn in hell!" She yells, still trying to get loose as her small hands cover mine.

"He will," A voice answers her. A voice that shouldn't be heard. Arya stops moving.

"But not today." Beric says as he kneels. He's alive. He's fucking alive. He should be dead. We saw him die.

There is a god. Nothing else can explain how a dead man came back to life.

Thoros helps Beric to his feet. No one pays attention to us as they're all too busy watching The Hound's every move.

I look down at Arya. "Will you stop trying to kill him? It's done."

She looks at me with her large grey eyes. "Yes." Her soft answer tells me that she's mystified by what just happened. Her hand still on mine. I stare into her eyes. I know her. She may agree now, but she won't rest. He is a name on her list.

I nod anyhow, resisting the urge to sweep her hair off her face. I pull my hand away from her soft grasp so I can get up. I reach a hand down to pull her up. I move her back to the cave's wall. The Brotherhood still wasn't done with The Hound quite yet.

The Hound wants his gold back, but Thoros refuses, says that they'll give it back when the war is over. I know what it's like to have your gold taken from you, but a part of me understands that the Brotherhood is using it for good. They're going to save people.

"You're nothing but thieves!" The Hound growls.

"We're outlaws," Anguy is quick to answer. "Outlaws steal. You're lucky we didn't kill ya."

"Come try it, Archer. I'll shove those arrows up your ass," The Hound threatens him only to be pulled back by some soldiers.

"You can't let him go, he's a murderer, he's guilty," Arya screams. I stay back, letting her flush out her anger. My wolf would never back down, not until she gets what she's looking for.

"Not in the eyes of God," Beric stands up.

Arya doesn't even let him finish speaking before she jumps in again. "You can't!"

"Enough!" Beric yells at her in return. "The judgement isn't ours to make." They toss The Hound his sword. "Go in peace, Sandor Clegane. The Lord of Light isn't done with you yet." They bag his head and walk him out.

Thoros walks Beric back to the depths of the cave, ignoring our presence.

Arya stomps furiously towards me. I know she's angry with the decision, angry that they let something as important as murder be left to the hands of a god. But, I also know that she's more curious as to the reanimation of Lord Beric.

"What just happened?" She asks me quietly as the others continue with their tasks as if a man had not come back from the dead in front of them.

I have no fucking clue. I say as much. The soldier whose dagger Arya stole comes and asks for it back. I look to the ground and notice Beric's burnt and broken sword. I bend down and grab the remains.

Everything happens for a reason. I look back at Arya who remains talking to the soldier. Everything.

* * *

I've decided. It's what I have to do. The only thing that will stop me is Arya. But she has something to go back to. A family. A title. I have nothing.

I run my fingers across the steel. This. This is the only fucking thing that is familiar to me. What I know.

I know it's her approaching me before I look up. The rhythm of her steps are ingrained in my head.

"What are you doing?" Arya asks me in that exasperated tone of hers.

I look at her immediately. "Just mending Lord Beric's armour.

"Why?" Her disbelief strewn across her face.

I have to tell her now before I lose my bloody nerve. "I'm going to stay on and smith for the brotherhood."

If I thought her face was of disbelief before, it's nothing compared to how she's looking at me right now. "Have you lost your mind? When the Lannisters find this place, do you think they'll spare the smiths? They'll cave your head in with your own hammer −"

"The Lannisters wanted to kill me long before I joined the brotherhood." I interrupt her, reminding her of the gold cloaks who were looking for me.

"You don't have to do this."

"I want to," I blink at her. I need to tell her how I feel being part of something greater than just being a gutter rat. "They need good men." I give her a way to mock me, ease her tension. She can easily retort that I'm not necessarily good. And we'll laugh this off. She'll see that I'm right and carry on being a lady of House Stark.

"Robb needs good men, too." She jumps in. So much for the idea of her mocking me. But her words. She doesn't realize what she's asking of me. It's exactly why I have to fucking stay. "We're leaving tomorrow, and then y−"

"What?" Why doesn't she fucking get it? "Serve him? I've served men my entire life. I served master Mott at King's Landing and he sold me to The Watch. I served Lord Tywin at Harrenhal wondering everyday if I'd get tortured or killed. I'm done serving."

"You just said you were serving Lord Beric." I want to laugh. Arya's never had to serve anyone a day in her life. She's not gutter rat. She's highborn. She'll never understand what it's like for people like me.

"He may be their leader, but they chose him. These men are brothers. They're a family."

She turns around to leave with a look of disgust. I have to tell her why. I can't let her think that I'm doing this because I want to leave her. I never want to leave her. "I've never had a family."

I see her stop in her tracks and turn around. Again, I'm reminded of how young she really is. Of how little she knows of the world.

"I can be your family."

Her hitched words ring through the cave. And I know. I can feel my heart beating a little faster. She loves me. I don't know if she loves me like one of her brothers or if she loves me as a lover, and I really don't care. She loves me and I love her. But the world isn't built by love. I give her a soft smile. She needs to know what the world is truly like. "You wouldn't be my family. You'd be my lady." Only ever my lady. I would never be her equal, no matter how she wished it. No matter how much I wish it.

We look at each other in silence. Truth. That's what it is. Her eyes tell me she knows what I'm saying without words. But I know her. She refuses to believe that it would be like that. With a pained expression and her eyes shining, she turns to leave.

I watch her walk away and swallow before I look at the metal in my hands. For a second, I imagine the life that Arya envisions. Or rather, the life that I have envisioned before. The one where I am truly at Arya's side and she is truly _my_ lady. But it can never be. A bastard and a lady. They should write a song about us.

And I finally get it. Why Hot Pie left. He did think of us. But he also needed to think for himself. There's a place for Arya in her world. But we wouldn't have belonged. We needed to find a place of our own. As much as I want to be with Arya, I need to be with the Brotherhood.

This is the way it has to be.

* * *

A/N: I purposely wrote it so that Gendry refers to Lord Beric just as Beric, mainly because I don't think he cares about titles in his own head.

Also, I had written this piece right after the episode aired, it was just clean up that was needed, and I'm glad I waited. Maisie Williams' insight as to how, "I can be your family," was said, definitely made me go and add more detail. I do believe that they love each other, and that both of them don't know exactly how so, they just do. I realize that this explanation doesn't quite match the idea that Gendry has imagined a life of them together, I guess what I'm trying to say is that he's probably imagined a life with Arya much like someone wanting a fairytale ending.

Hope you guys like my take on this epic episode. Please tell me your thoughts.

Thanks for reading!

Love,

D


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thanks for all the love for this story. The amount of alerts and favs are greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: The characters and most of the dialogue aren't mine.

* * *

Arya hasn't said a word to me since we spoke about me joining the Brotherhood. Instead, she follows Anguy and uses his bow. I've seen her shoot. I've heard the names. She's fucking perfect. She's told me stories of how she used to steal away at night back at Winterfell and practice shooting arrows until she hit the target. She needed to better than her brothers. She's always been relentless at doing everything until she gets it right. And shooting arrows is no exception.

When the woman in red appears, I feel my body stir. I haven't seen a fucking real woman since King's Landing, and she is beautiful, and exotic, and it simply feels like she is on fire. I notice every man look at her with desire dripping off their tongues. I guess it's been a bloody while for them as well. I look at Arya as Thoros speaks to the woman in High Valyrian. Her despise for the woman rolls off of her in waves. While she is still angry with me, she has yet to look at me the way that she is looking at the woman before us. The cold, calculating look that she reserves for people she doesn't trust.

I turn my attention back to the red beauty on the horse just as Thoros asks her why she is here. She wants to speak with Beric. Thoros helps her off the horse and leads her to the cave. He shrugs away any man that wants to accompany them.

"Ah, shit," Anguy fiddles around with the sack of arrowheads in his hand.

"What is it?" Arya asks, practicing shooting at the straw man again.

"I'm out of my best arrowheads," he sighs before pocketing his pouch.

I smirk to myself. Arrowheads, I could make them in my sleep. Arya knows that just as well. I see her glance at me out of the corner of my eye. Her back stiffens. She knows that I can hear everything that they're saying. My smirk widens when I know that she knows what she has to do. She has to get Anguy to ask me to make them for him so that she can continue practicing her shooting.

She mumbles something to Anguy so that I can't make out what she's saying.

Too bad that Anguy can't hear her either. "What?"

Arya frowns. "I said, Gendry knows how to forge them. Your tips. He can make them for you."

Anguy looks at me. "Is that right, boy?" He pulls out his pouch again before he comes forward. Arya remains where she stands until she rolls her eyes and trails after him.

"Bodkin point. Penetrates plate at two hundred yards."

I twist the small piece in my hands. I can see why he favours this. The build is slight, more wind resistant. It's small for a tip, but sharp as hell. And not flat. I can see why it's hard to come by. Most smiths like to make simple arrowheads, ones that are easily hammered to shape. But this one needs more dedication to get it's fullness. As it was, Tobho Mott was asked to make Bodkin points for men in King's Landing and taught me how to make it. If I had good steel, this should be simple enough for me to forge Anguy as many as he needed.

I know that Arya's curiosity is eating at her as she quickly darts her eyes from the arrowhead to Anguy and back to the arrowhead. I lift the tip closer to my face as if to see study it in more detail. Might as well keep her on her toes for a second longer. If I do this for her, I know that she'll come around to the idea of me joining the Brotherhood. She'll finally see that this is where I belong.

"Can you make it?" Anguy asks.

I nod. "Yeah, nothing tricky about it. Just need decent steel." I hand the arrowhead back to him.

He smiles and tosses the point back into the pouch. "I'll get you the steel."

We hear men coming from behind us. I look at Arya as she glares steadily in that direction. I turn around.

"I don't like that woman," Arya hisses.

"That's 'cause you're a girl," Anguy slyly replies causing me to grin.

I openly admire the woman as she heads towards us. Her cloak hides most of her figure, but you know it's there.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Arya asks with disdain in that honest way of hers. As much as she tries to deny that she's a lady, she has no idea what it is like to be a man. Tobho Mott once told me that men think with their cocks, and everything I'd seen in King's Landing proved him right. Fat King Robert was a perfect example; he had probably fucked all the whores at King's Landing before he died.

The woman, Thoros and Beric stop in front of us. Something is wrong.

Beric looks straight at me. "Forgive me, lad." Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the bloody hell does she want with me? The same feeling when The Mountain picked me back at Harrenhal washes over me again.

Two men come forward and try to pull my arms. I shrug them off but there's two of them and even if I did manage to slip away, I wouldn't be able to get very far.

"What are you doing?" Arya asks. "Let go of him!" She says more aggressively as she she tries to pull one of them off me. But it's useless, he pushes her away with great ease. She turns to Anguy immediately. "Tell 'em to stop."

The shit of a man does nothing as the two men push me towards the cart.

I can hear Arya screaming behind me. "He wants to be one of you. He wants to join the Brotherhood. Stop them!" If I wasn't currently being held by the two fuckers, I would have probably grinned. Arya still cares about me. As it stands, I'm more concerned about where the fuck they're taking me.

Beric answers her. "We serve the Lord of Light. And the Lord of Light needs this boy." So that's it. Because their fucking god told them that I was wanted, they gave me up just like that. I thought these men were people who wouldn't abandon their own. I should have known better. I'm still nothing more than a gutter rat bastard to them.

"Did the Lord of Light tell you that or did she?" Arya sneers.

The men shove me against the cart. The wood digs into my abdomen.

I hear Arya's quieted voice. She's come to a revelation. "You're not doing this for your god. You're doing it for gold."

"We're doing it for both, girl." I strain to hear Thoros answer her. "We can't defend the people without weapons and horses and food. And we can't get weapons and horses and food without gold."

The fucking lot of them. It was always about the gold. "You told me this was a Brotherhood." I shout out so that they could hear. I refuse to let them take me away with a fucking clear soul. No. They have to know they are nothing more than a band of thieves. There is no honour amongst thieves. "You told me I could be one of you." Selling me. That's what they are doing. Selling me, like I'm property. Fuck them and their false honour.

The red woman turns to me with her vivid blue eyes. I look past her beauty. What does she fucking want with me? Why is it that I'm always being bloody chased? Why do I always end up being a prisoner?

She comes closer, and I can't help but stare into her eyes. "You are more than they can ever be," she tell me.

What? Did I hear that right? I still struggle against the bounds around my wrist.

She continues. "They are just foot soldiers in the great war. You will make kings rise and fall." I stop for a moment as I look on at her in shock. Me, make kings do anything? She's bloody out of her mind. What can a bastard smith ever do?

As I give up the struggle, the two soldiers heft me into the cart.

I can hear Arya yelling at the woman. "You're a witch. You're going to hurt him." My foggy mind clears at that moment. Arya. I'm leaving her. She's going to be fucking alone with these asses. My judgement of these men was all wrong. She could get hurt. They could sell her to a raper if he paid enough gold. And there's nothing I can fucking do about it. My hands are tied and even if they weren't, what good could I do? I don't know how to wield a sword or a bow or even a fucking dagger. They'd kill me within a second. There was never any chance that I could have protected Arya against them.

The woman in red grabs at Arya's face, fear gracing her beauty. "I see a darkness in you. And in that darkness, eyes are staring back at me. Brown eyes. Blue eyes. Green eyes. Eyes you'll shut forever. We will meet again."

I lean back against the cart. She knows nothing about Arya. Arya may look and act like she's emotionless. But her heart is big. She will do anything to protect and keep the ones she loves. Her family.

I stare at Arya as the cart pulls me away. This is the last time that I'll ever see her and all I see is her sad eyes. Her haunted expression. This bitterness and helplessness rise in me. She fights for the one she loves. She fights for her family. And I told her that I could never be her family. The Arya I know would have chased me until she got me. But she just stands there. She's already given up on me.

No. Arya loves me. I know she loves me. But just like me, she knows that there is nothing that could be done. We are only two.

I think back again to that day at Harrenhal. I was supposed to have died. I remember Arya's eyes back then too. They were more frightened last time because there was no hope. Her eyes are only sad now, and that tells me that she believes. I can't die and she can't either. We're only to be parted for a while.

As the cart pulls further and further away until I can't see Arya anymore, all I can think about is how we never said goodbye. But then the woman's words repeats itself. We will meet again, Arya. I will find you if it's the last thing I do.

* * *

A/N: I guess this is it for Arya and Gendry scenes, for a while anyways. I found it really difficult to gauge exactly what was going on Gendry's head, so I apologize if this installment is weak.

I did want to see the Peach and Acorn Hall scenes, but I guess the writers have their reasons for merging Edric Storm and Gendry into one. Let's hope they don't do anything that will kill my love for Arya/Gendry.

As always, please tell me your thoughts, thanks!

Love,

D


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks for all of your lovely support!

Disclaimer: I am not associated with ASOIAF or GoT

* * *

"Here." The woman in red, Melisandre she said, hands one of her guards a loaf of bread to feed to me. My hands are still bloody tied together. She turns her icy blue eyes at me. "You need to eat."

I stare hard at her. She is the reason that I am not with the fucking Brotherhood. I don't know whether to hate her or thank her for showing me their true colours. They sold me to her. Fucking asses.

"Where are we going?" I ask yet again even though I know it's futile. She hasn't answered any of the other times that I've asked.

She turns around to look forward. "You shall see when we get there."

* * *

We travel a day by horse and that's when I smell it. Seawater. I used to go to the ports at King's Landing whenever Master Mott let me take break. It was the only place I knew well besides the forge. I remember watching the ships, wishing that I could be one of the sailors who get to travel to any land they wanted. I wanted the feeling of being free.

"Why are we at sea?" I ask her.

She turns around. "You shall see." It's the only bloody answer that she gives me.

We head towards the water until we reach a large ship. I watch Melisandre as she gets off her horse. Who is this woman and how can she fucking afford a whole bloody ship? She heads towards the ship until a plank is pulled down so that she can board it. She slowly makes her way up.

Her men grab me and shove me off the wagon and onto the plank following her.

I struggle against the strains around my wrist. I don't know where she wants to take me; all I know is that I have to get back. Arya is still with them. No matter my situation, I can't help but remember that she's still with them. Still in danger.

Her men tie me against one of the posts on the ship. Fuck, the first time I'm on a fucking ship and I'm held captive.

I watch as the men pull away from shore and the feeling of dread washes over me. I'll never be able to get back to Arya. I swallow.

Melissandre approaches me after she finishes talking with the captain. "Release him." The men scramble to untie my hands.

The moment I'm released, I grab at my wrists. I look at her in shock. "You're letting me go?"

She smirks. "It's not like you can get away, boy."

I walk unsteadily to the edge of the ship to look into the water. I can't swim and she knows it. If I jump, I would die.

I turn around to look at her. "What do you want with me?"

She gives me that smirk again. "A question that shall be answered soon enough."

* * *

I watch the sunrise two more days at sea and then finally, I see it in the distance. King's Landing. I snort. After everything that I've gone through, I've only managed to come back to where I started. But there's something different. The water is filled with half-sunken ships.

Melisandre crosses my path and I follow her. "What happened?" I stare out at the water. Nothing makes sense.

"Wildfire. I should have been here." Wildfire? What does that have to do with anything?

I look up at the castle and for some reason I tell her what I've been thinking. "After all the running and fighting, here I am, back where I started."

"Do you miss it?" She asks me.

"King's Landing?" There is nothing to miss.

"Your father's house," she clarifies immediately.

I shake my head slightly. She doesn't know I'm a bastard. "Never had a father. Never wanted one." Only truth. What good is a man who leaves a woman and her child before the child is even born.

"Haven't you ever wondered where your strength came from? Your talent for fighting?"

What the hell is she talking about? Does she know nothing about me. I grew up in a forge, I lifted pounds of metal daily. That's where I got my strength. Granted, I always used to be able to lift more than the other apprentices. It was why Master Mott kept me. Or so he said. As for the fighting, I guess she has no idea that I've been captured time and time again. I'm no good at it.

"I'm lowborn. As low as can be. My mother was a tavern wench." What is she raving about?

"Mine was a slave. So was I. Bought and sold. Scourged and branded until the Lord of Light reached down, took me in his hand, and raised me up." She says passionately.

A part of me feels sorry for her. A woman so beautiful doesn't deserve that horror. But a part of me wonders if she realizes that she's bought me. I am her slave.

I hold my tongue and instead, I tell her of my birth. "I was born in Flea Bottom."

She looks at me with that stare of hers, the one that says whatever she thinks is the most obvious. "Your blood is noble."

She keeps talking as if...as if there is a chance that I'm not so lowborn. "You're saying...my father, he was some lord or..." I shake my head. Impossible.

She turns to look at the Red Keep. "There." She looks back at me. "Your father's house."

I follow her gaze. No. No. What she's saying...she can't mean...that's not a possibility. I swallow. "I'm just a bastard."

She looks at me again with that stare. "The bastard of Robert of the House Baratheon." I look at her. She's fucking serious. "First of his name. King of the Andals and the First Men."

I stare at her.

"Why do you think the Gold Cloaks wanted you? There is power in a king's blood." She points out.

I never knew. I look up at the castle again. My father. Robert Baratheon was my father.

I step back. "I need to...I just need a moment." Without looking at her, I head down to the crates. It is the only spot on the ship where I can think without having anyone bother me. I collapse onto the closest crate, for the first time not because of my lack of sea legs.

Baratheon. My father was Robert Baratheon. King Robert Baratheon. I'm the bastard of a king. I shake my head. I should have known. I always said that he had fucked all of King's Landing, it only makes sense that I was fathered from one of his trysts.

I stare at the ship wall across from me and suddenly another thought crosses my mind. I'm not lowborn. Rather, not as lowborn as I always thought.

I jump up as something else crosses my mind. My last conversation with Arya. I told her that I could never be her family because I was lowborn. But now...now things are different. I could...marry her. I may be a bastard still, but I'm King Robert's bastard. That makes a difference. And Arya said that she loved her bastard brother best. She wouldn't care. I could make her my family, just like she wanted.

I sit down, hoping that my speeding heart stops racing. Arya. I have to get back to her. I need her now more than ever. I don't know what Melisandre wants with me, all I know is that Arya would be able to tell me what to do with this knowledge.

King Robert's son. I'm King Robert's son. Oh gods. I just realized something else. I'm related to fucking Joffrey Baratheon. Fuck.

* * *

A/N: It's probably unlikely that Gendry thought of Arya at the revelation, but you know, one can dream.

Hope you readers liked this installment.

Love,

Dawnindanite


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks so much to those of you who take the time to leave a review! Your positive words mean so much to me!

Hope you readers enjoy this week's interpretation. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones

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Melisandre finally tells me where we're headed as we're about to dock at shore. She serves Stannis Baratheon. My uncle. To her and all her men, he is the one true king. She explains very little to me about the various supposed usurpers, probably because she knows it'll all go over my head.

I look forward on deck. My time on the ship has allowed me to adjust to the swaying of the boat. No longer am I sick every hour. I squint at what I see.

"Is that...Dragonstone?"

Melisandre nods. "Yes, it's the home of your uncle. And now yours," she adds in that sultry way of hers that is pleasing to the ears.

* * *

It takes a few more hours before we actually set foot on land. I look up at the dreary castle. Much drearier than the Red Keep. This castle is made of stone. Only grey in colour like the storm clouds surrounding it. Almost as if there is no life inside its walls. While there is a sliver of excitement coursing through me, I can't help but feel a sense of foreboding.

I turn around and see Melisandre smirking at me. She turns around and leads me and the guards up to the castle.

We reach the castle quickly enough. Melisandre leads us through its winding corridors. I can't help but be mesmerized by everything. There is just so much everywhere The grey walls were covered in tapestries worth more than than the shack my mother lived in. Vases that held nothing strewn at every corner. And fire. Fire burning everywhere.

We reach a room with a great table at its centre and I spot him. Stannis Baratheon, my uncle. I glance around the room, and I see the dragons etched into its walls. Dragonstone indeed. Stannis studies us before walking over. I shuffle my feet, ready to bow. He is a king, sort of, might as well show some sign of respect. Before I can even tilt my head, he grips my jaw and stares into my eyes. He's fucking judging me, like every damn lord in the world. I stare right back at him.

He lets go and averts his eyes to look at Melisandre. "Half Robert, half lowborn." He turns his attention back to me.

I hear Melisandre give orders behind me. "Show the boy to his chambers. Have the maids draw him a bath and find him some decent clothes."

I remain looking at Stannis before I feel Melisandre leaning in towards me. "I'll come visit you soon." My uncle snaps his eyes to the Red Woman when he hears the tone of her sweet voice.

I know when I am being dismissed though, and I really have no words to say to the man in front of me. I twist around to follow the guards down even more winding corridors.

I'm led to a room with a giant hot bath. Fuck, they even have separate rooms for their baths. Two maids stand beside it and bow as I enter the room. I start and turn around to see if someone had come in with me. When I see no one I turn around, realizing that they are in fact bowing at me. Never have I ever dreamed that one day, people would bow in my presence.

The two girls look at each other before approaching me. "We have your bath ready for you, ser." They start taking off my dust-covered jerkin and tunic. I try to think back to when I last had a proper bath, and nothing comes to mind.

They reach for the laces on my breeches. I stop them. "I've got it from here," I say. Even if I am a bastard lord, that doesn't mean that I shouldn't respect girls anymore.

Unwillingly, my mind drifts to Arya. I've managed to pass the last couple of days without thinking of her. But at this moment, with these girls, I think back to how I foolishly talked about cocks in front her, thinking she was nothing more than a gutter rat like me. I remember how I had thought that night that it shouldn't have mattered if she was a lady or not, she was still a girl, and I should have respected that. Just because my mother was a tavern wench, nearly a whore, it didn't make it that all girls were. Arya changed me that day and she didn't even know it.

I relish in the hot water of the bath, scrubbing deep into every pore. I glance around the room trying to find my clothes only to find new ones laid out for me. Probably burned mine. I quickly slosh out of the tub and put on my new clothes. I run a hand down the material. I've never worn anything this fancy before.

A maid knocks at the door. "Ser, if you're finished, I'll escort you to your chambers." I walk out and the maid bows her head before leading the way. The guards follow us. "Your meal is prepared in your room, ser." She stopped at a door and opened it. I walk into yet another grand chamber.

Just as the other rooms, this one is again filled with candles and fires. And just as the girl says, a table is brimming with food. More than I've seen, well, ever. I turn around to thank the girl, but she had already left and the door is shut. I turn to study the room again. A fucking featherbed. They gave me a fucking featherbed. I run my hands down the post of the bed, marvelling at the craftsmanship. You don't find beds like these in Flea Bottom. I go back to the table and pick at something to pop it into my mouth when it hits me. Even if Stannis is my uncle, he doesn't seem to like me very much. He could very well demand that I pay for everything that I touch or eat. I place the bite down before running my eyes around the room again. What the bloody hell is that thing? I walk over to look at it. Melisandre suddenly enters the room and I give her a glance before turning my attention back to the pot-like structure. A brazier. They have a fucking huge fire bowl in the centre of my chambers.

"Have you ever seen one like it?" Melisandre asks as she walks further into the room.

I answer honestly. "I've never seen anything like any of this. In my life."

"It's shocking, isn't it? The first time you encounter real wealth. When I was your age, I lived on one bowl of stew a day." She walks around the room as if she owns it. Which I guess she does. "Stew was a kind word for it." Her tone is much relaxed than I've ever heard her speak to me. As if she's letting me in, somehow.

"In Flea Bottom, we called them Bowls of Brown." She comes forward and lights the brazier. "We'd pretend that the meat in them was chicken." Oh fuck. What the hell was coming out of my mouth. It might have something to do with the way her dress cuts so fucking deep. I shrug my head. "We knew it wasn't chicken." Oh bloody hell. Stupid. She gives me a look before blowing out her wick and walks towards the table to pour herself a glass of wine. I shuffle my feet. She probably thinks I'm a stupid green boy. Can't blame her.

She turns around and I can't help but think of how beautiful she looks. She holds out the glass and gently prods me. "Here, taste this." Suddenly, I'm much more wary of why she's being so sweet. "You think I'm trying to poison you?" She questions, as if she wasn't capable of such things. I figure she's already forgotten that she bought me from the Brotherhood. She drinks from the cup, staring at me all the while. Her eyes playful. She's so fucking beautiful.

I feel my lip pulling up before I walk over to her. I take the cup and take two gulps of the dark liquid. Fuck. This is the best thing I've ever tasted. "That's good." She smiles at me. I take another gulp just to be sure I'm not fucking dreaming. "That's really good."

"Where do you think it's from?" She questions.

As if I would fucking know. I barely know water from cheap ale. "I couldn't even guess."

"Doesn't matter, does it? It's the real thing or it's not. You only need a tongue to tell the difference." I stare at her. I suddenly get the feeling she's not talking about the wine. "Go on, have some more." She turns around. I suddenly start to question why she's in my room so late. She turns to find me staring and lets out a breath of laughter. "You still don't trust it. You think that this is all a mistake and you have to pay somehow for every bite you take."

"That thought has crossed my mind, yeah." I breath out truthfully.

She runs a hand down my face. Caressing even. "There are no mistakes. Not for us." Her hand trails down and onto my chest and taking the cup away from me.

I frown at her words and let out what's on my mind. "I'm a mistake. Only here because my father grabbed my mother instead of the girl next to her in the tavern." I remember my mother telling me this story as a child. She hated my father for leaving us. I guess she didn't care that he had a wife and children, and a whole fucking kingdom to get back to.

"Your father chose your mother because the Lord of Light willed it." Again with this god. Yes, I've seen him reawaken the dead, but if he is real, then he is also the cause of all my suffering.

"He willed it so you could be here, right now." She gets closer and she is nothing more than a breath away from me. "With a power inside you, you can't even begin to understand." She ghosts her lips across mine before pulling back and pulling at the laces to my tunic.

Fucking hell. There's no way that she wants to fuck me. Is there?

"And he brought me here to draw it from you. And birth it into the world." She leans into my ear. "We're both a part of his plan." She pulls at the laces at the bottom of the tunic and I can feel myself breathing harder. "He wants this for us. No, he demands this of us."She pulls off the tunic and runs her lip across my temple and down my face.

"I don't understand this." I really don't. Yes, she is beautiful, but she is also a priestess. "It doesn't seem very religious."

She gives me one her beautiful little smiles. "According to whom? The silent sisters. With their stern looks, muzzled mouths and dried up cunts? What have their gods done for you?" It's as if she knows exactly what I've been thinking all along. "Hm? When you pray to them, what's their answer?" She pulls back. "The God is real or He's not. You only need eyes to see." What is she doing? Fuck, she's pulling off her robes. And all I see are her teats. Her glorious teats. And her cunt.

I stare at her openly. She's so fucking beautiful. And she wants to fuck me. I have to be dreaming.

She reaches up to stoke my hair. "Death is coming for everyone and everything." An odd thing to say right now but it does nothing to stop the hardening of my cock. "The darkness that will swallow the dawn, and we can stop it. You and I." For once, I see a weakness in her eyes. That this moment is nothing more than another beautiful woman who needs me.

She leads me to the bed and kisses me hotly. It takes me a moment before I realize that I can put my hands on her. As I realize, she pushes me back onto the bed. This is happening. This is really fucking happening. She tugs on the laces of my breeches, just so that she can pull them down far enough.

She's climbing on top of me. Beautiful Melisandre is on top of me. I'm not aware of my heavy breathing as all I can see is her.

She leans down and brushes my hair back. "Let me show you what you have inside you." She kisses me. "Come fight death with me." I honestly have no idea what the hell she's saying to me. But I don't care because my cock is suddenly surrounded by her heat. We rock together and I allow my hands to run up her body to her teats. I can understand why everyone is mad for fucking. It's the best feeling in the world.

She breathes out heavily before grabbing my hands and pulling them back. I feel a strap tie around them.

"What are you doing?"

She leans down and kisses me gently. "You have to trust me." She kisses her way down my chest and I can feel her heat disappearing. As long as she comes back, I don't care.

But then I feel my feet being strapped. That can't be right. I look down and sure enough, she's got my fucking feet tied together. This isn't right, is it? I watch as she goes to the table and lifts the box I vaguely remember her bringing in. She comes back to me and suddenly I see it. She has fucking leeches in the box. She dangles one above me with her pinchers.

"Get it away!" I yell at her. If this is what fucking is like with her, I want no part of it. "Get it off me!"

"Don't fight, don't fight. They won't take much." She tries to soothe me. As if that's going to make it any better.

"Why are you doing this?" I'm suddenly aware of how hard I'm breathing.

She looks down at me and that familiar look that says that she knows everything graces her face again. "I told you, there is power in the blood of kings. And you have so much blood." She holds another above me and I see where she wants to place it.

"No! No! No! No! No! No! Not there! Not there!" I wince as I feel the leech on my cock.

I hear the door open to the chambers. Melisandre turns her attention to the sound.

"You can blame Ser Davos. He didn't believe in the power of king's blood." She saunters over to her robes. She bends to pick it up and place it around her. "He wanted a demonstration."

I can feel the teeth of the monsters sucking my blood. I strain my neck to see Stannis Baratheon and a man I've never seen enter the chamber slowly. I start begging them. "Please! Please, your grace! My lord!" They have to get me out of here. I don't doubt that this Red Bitch wants to murder me. They do nothing but stand as they watch her pull off the leeches. She glances at me slightly before pulling the one off my cock. Fuck, that hurt.

She walks over to the brazier and Stannis joins her. He puts his hand into the bowl that holds the leeches. He pulls one out and what comes out of his mouth doesn't make sense. "The usurper, Robb Stark. The usurper, Balon Greyjoy. The usurper, Joffrey Baratheon."

They stand and watch the leeches burn before Stannis looks at me and turns to leave the room. The man who came into the room with him looks at me with pity but doesn't do anything except follow Stannis out.

Melisandre smiles at me as she comes to stand over me. She attempts to brush her hand down my hair but I flinch away. "Don't worry, sweet boy. Your suffering will not be for naught." She turns to leave without untying me.

I stare helplessly at the ceiling, trying to loosen the ties again, but nothing works. I give up after realizing the uselessness of struggling. I let a chuckle despite my situation. I knew there would a price to pay. Nothing good ever happens to bastard. Here I thought, I was finally a free man, one who could gain some respect, but it was just a trap to get me into binds. I should have known that I would never be truly free. I try one more time to unleash myself, but again, nothing. Fuck, what have I gotten myself into?

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A/N: Poor Gendry! I assume that was his first time with a woman...and to have that happen, well, he's probably going to be scarred for life (for however long that may be-still holding out for D&D to reunite Arya and Gendry sometime in the future).

And not a lot of Arya reflection this time because let's face it, he was totally enamoured with Melisandre.

Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!

Love,

D

P.S. Seriously, how ironic is it that the title to my series really sums up Gendry's situations? Honestly, when I came up with it, I was referencing the idea that Gendry was bound to Arya, no matter what, but, I think the word "prisoner" has a much more literal meaning if you really look his character starting from the very first time we meet him to now. This guy really needs a break...but I guess, who doesn't in this world, right?


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: So sorry for the wait on this last chapter, was a bit busy these past couple of weeks. Thank you to those who have recently added this to their list of alerts and favs. :)

Also, I'm really sorry if the lines aren't exactly correct. I tried my best to write them verbatim, but sometimes I just couldn't understand Davos. I don't know if it was low volume, or my lack of understanding his accent, either way, please forgive me for any mistakes.

Disclaimer: No legal affiliation with the show or novels.

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For someone who was constantly locked up and imprisoned, I have long lost the need to keep time. I don't know how long I've been down in Stannis' dungeons, nor do I care. The guards have told me the rumours of the plans the Red Bitch has for me. I'm going to die in order to sacrifice for my uncle's 'rightful' succession to the throne.

I toss a pebble at the wall across from me. Death. I've managed to evade it for this long, guess it was bound to catch up to me some time. I think back to the times that I was supposed to have died. At Harrenhal, I was seconds away from Poliver's rat scurrying into my gut, and before that, Arya saved me from the Gold Cloaks. If she hadn't said that Lommy was me, I would have been long dead by now.

I lean my head against the grate of my cell. Arya. I threw another pebble at the wall again, harder this time. I snort. I wanted to save her. I thought that I could save her. How could I fucking save her if I'm about to be sacrificed like a fucking bloody lamb? No, I can't save Arya from the Brotherhood, I can't even save myself. I'm just Gendry. Bastard son of Robert Baratheon, and a blacksmith. I thought nobility would save me, would free me. No, my highborn blood ruins me. Kills me.

I hear footsteps coming down the hall. Could be a guard bringing me food, but the footsteps are too light. Probably the Red Bitch coming to torture me some more.

They light a torch behind me and I turn to see the man who with Stannis that night that I was leeched. Ser Davos, I think. I don't fucking care. I don't even stand to greet him. I'm tired of lords, tired of highborns.

"How're you keepin'?"

He must be fucking joking. I'm locked up in a fucking cell, waiting to be sacrificed. "Great. Never better."

"It was just a bit of blood," Davos reasons with me.

"I should have known. Every time a highborn asks my name, it's trouble." I let him know what's on my mind. "We're not really people to you, are we? Just a million different ways to get what you want."

"I'm not a highborn," Davos interrupts me immediately, as if I should know better. Piss on that.

"She called you 'ser'. I heard it." I'd like to see how he can fight that.

I hear him grunt slightly as he gets down to sit on the other side of the grate. "Recent state of affairs." He takes a second before continuing, more quietly. "I was born in Flea Bottom just like you."

Fuck this. There's no possibility that he was born in Flea Bottom. No one from Flea Bottom turned into a lord. Things just don't happen that way. I smirk and play along. "Sure you were. You're my friend. You're here to help." I nod as I speak.

"Lived below the Street of Flower," he continues to speak.

"How far below?" Let's see if he really know what he's talking about. Probably just pulling names of streets from memory. Anyone can do that to get into someone's good graces. He probably just wants a clear conscious before he murders me. That he tried to fucking befriend me before I die. "How close to the Red Keep were you?" I turn my head slightly.

"The shit that poured from their privy pipes flowed down the side of Aegon's Hill, along Tanner's Rove and right in front of my front door on..."

"Gin Alley," I join in. He did know. He did come from Flea Bottom. But how...why is he a lord, and not just any lord, lord to Stannis?

"On your Street of Steel, with your armour and your knights," he lets out a huff, "you lived in the fancy part of town."

I can't help but smile at his quip.

Silence befalls the dungeons long enough the hear some birds cooing.

"And here we are now, two boys from Flea Bottom, in the castle of a king."

I don't think he quite gets the idea that I'm locked in the dungeon, waiting for death. "Yeah, we've come a long way." He doesn't get that he has freedom and a lordship and I've still got fucking nothing. "We're all the same really." The words that the Red Bitch spoke comes flooding back. "She went to great pains to point that out to me."

"If you mistrust fancy people so much, why were you in such a hurry to trust her?" Ah, his real reason why he's down here. Arya's taught me much about the way people speak.

I smirk. How could he fucking not understand. "You're me. Never been with a woman, never talked to a woman, really. And then, she comes at ya, big words, no clothes, what would you have done?"

"And she does know a way around a man's head, I'll give her that."

We both chuckle. Damn that woman and all of her naked glory.

"So how'd you become a lord?" I ask him, it is my turn for questions. It'd be nice to really know at least one other person before I die.

He grunts. "It's a long story."

"Better not then, I'm a bit busy." Seriously, how does he not see that I have all the time in the world? And it isn't as if I can leave.

He looks at me and then tells me his story. "Many years ago, I helped King Stannis out with a difficult situation. He awarded me with a lordship and this," he holds up his hand and I notice his lack of fingers. Pissing mad, Stannis takes his fucking fingers, and he still serves him.

"You see? Highborns." I shake my head for emphasis.

"I didn't want to be a lord. I nearly didn't accept." The way he speaks, it's like the way that Arya would speak to me, like I'm being told a secret that no one else knows.

"Why did you?"

"I did it for my son. I didn't want him to step over a river a shit every time he stepped through his front door. I wanted him to have a better life."

And I understand. It's why I wanted to join the Brotherhood. I wanted a better life too. "Does he?"

"He's dead."

Death. Early death. I saw nothing but death in Flea Bottom, that was the way our lives were. Can't have anything good come our way.

Davos stands up, ready to go, but I need to know. Was it Flea Bottom that killed his son, or was it the highborns?

"How'd he die?"

My question fills the air, and he's probably going to leave without answering, but then, "Following me."

He stomps away, taking the light with him.

I think about his answer, the way that Davos spoke his last words to was as if he regretted his decision to become a lord. 'Following me'. Did his son die in this castle? Was that what he meant? He led his son to his death? Did his new title bring about his death. I pick up a pebble and toss it against the wall. It could be much simpler than that. He could have meant it much more physically.

I reach for another pebble, only to find none. I sigh. Sure, Davos seems like a decent man, and I feel sorry that he lost his son. But feeling sorry for him isn't going to bring his son back nor is it going to save me from whatever death they have planned for me. Death comes early to those in Flea Bottom.

* * *

I hear the jingle of keys as I awaken from my light sleep against the wall. I turn my head into the light in Davos' hand. He's opened the door to my cell. I keep my arms folded to keep warm in this bloody cold cell.

"What're you doin'?" I ask him. I get a feeling that he's not supposed to be doing this. He's too rushed.

"You're leaving."

He's freeing me? No, there's no way. "Is this some kind of trick?"

"Yes, but not on you," he tosses a cloak at me. "Quickly, put it on, we don't have all day."

I glance at the outer gates. The guards are sleeping. I spot light streaming through an opening. Odd, it isn't even night, why are they sleeping?

"Hurry, boy. We need to do this now if you want to leave. And be quiet. I don't know how long those guards will be out." He glances at the sleeping men.

I just notice the empty flagons of wine near them when Davos stoppers the fire and darkness enfolds us.

Davos yanks on my arm when he catches me staring. I scurry after him, tugging on my hood.

We manage to leave the dungeons with Davos' lead. It's apparent that he doesn't need light to know which turn to make in the winding maze. I hear the ocean in the near distance. He's done it. He's freed me.

Davos doesn't stop, moving even faster as we cross along the shore. We walk for a while before Davos speaks.

"Aim for that star." What? I look in front of us, and I notice that there's a boat with oars. I'm free, but only if I can sail away. Only problem is, I have no fucking idea how to steer a boat. Ironic. I always dreamt about hopping on a ship to get away from King's Landing, and here I am, needing to know how to sail, and I've got not a fucking clue.

Davos continues speaking. "Don't stop. There's bread and water. Go slow with it. If you finish it off," he pushes the boat into the water, "no matter how thirsty you get, don't drink sea water."

Does he think me a complete idiot. "I know not to drink sea water." I pull off my cloak. It's not going to be much help if I'm going to row this boat.

"Row for a full day and night," Davos continues, as if I haven't spoken. Why do people keep doing that to me? "And when you're weak, rows' rest. You'll want to stop there, don't." He warns me. "She'll find ya."

I look out at sea. "Where should I go?"

"Just keep the coast on your left side until you've reached King's Landing."

No. Can't go there. "The Gold Cloaks are looking for me."

"They've been looking for me for twent' years. Do they know your face?" He asks me.

"No." Hadn't really thought of that.

"I'd worry more about the Red Woman," he quickly remarks.

I get into the boat. Fuck. I have no idea what I'm doing.

I can hear Davos' exasperated tone behind me. "The other way." Oh.

I turn around. Davos looks at me questioningly. "You ever been in a boat before?"

Apart from docking onto this island with the Red Bitch, no. "No."

"You know how to swim?"

"No."

"Don't fall out," he counsels me wisely. Right. I'll try not to do that. "Go on." He releases the boat, and I start drifting away.

I have to ask him before I leave. Why is helping me? There can't be anything in it for him, he may die for this. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because it's right. And because I'm a slow learner." What the bloody hell does that mean? I stare at him as I begin to row. "When you get to Flea Bottom, have a Bowl of Brown for me."

I turn my head to make sure I'm not headed for any rocks and when I turn around, I can make out Davos heading back into the castle. I continue rowing. He didn't even let me thank him.

I don't know really know who he is, and I don't know why he saved me. All I know is that I owe him my gratitude. If he lives and if I ever see him again, I'll have to make sure to thank him. I'll also have to make sure that he and Arya meet. I get a feeling that those two would spend all day fighting each other and loving it.

I snap my eyes back to the disappearing shore. There is no time to think of meeting up with Davos again, or Arya for that matter. One day, Arya. One day, I'll find you. For now, I've got to live.

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A/N: So that's the last of this installment. Can't believe the season's been over for a couple of weeks now. Thanks to all who have journeyed through this work with me, I very much appreciate it. I'm not sure if I will continue with the Prisoner Series next season, but if you guys want me to, I'll try my best to keep you guys entertained. Please let me know what you think on the subject, should I or shouldn't I continue? Let me know via review or PM.

Thanks again!

Love,

Dawnindanite


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